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“Val, time for dinner!”
Curled up on the window seat and finally reading the new Connie Willis book she had bought last month, Valkyrie startled at the sound of Carol’s voice.
And then she frowned at the words .
Carol Danvers was a lot of things - a lot of great things.
But a cook was not - had never been, would never be - one of them. Sure, Carol could wield a sponge like a weapon and never complained about washing dishes post-meals. But tell her she had to make the meal? It was one of the very few things guaranteed to send Carol into a tailspin.
Valkyrie’s frown grew.
She hadn’t heard the doorbell or any knocking, so it was doubtful Carol had ordered delivery.
Besides all of that, Valkyrie had told Carol she would make them something in an hour or so, that she just needed some time to sit down and relax after an absolutely hellish day at work and-
She checked her watch.
It had been two hours.
Shit.
Carol was probably hungry and telling her it was time for Valkyrie to get off her ass and cook.
With a sigh, she marked her page and set the book aside and got to her feet.
As much as she didn’t want to get up and get back to reality, she did appreciate Carol letting her wallow for two hours instead of the one Valkyrie had asked for.
She made her way downstairs and headed towards the kitchen, but stopped short when she walked past the dining room.
They rarely used it - only ever when they had company over, and that was rare enough that they usually had to dust the table off.
But Carol was sat at her usual place, the north end of the table, posture perfect, still dressed in her work attire - red silk blouse, black trousers and her hair pulled back into her tight don’t fuck with me bun that was her usual uniform whenever she went to the Pentagon to deliver any kind of intel reports.
Carol turned, obviously feeling Valkyrie’s eyes on her, and smirked.
“You’re a little overdressed, Val,” Carol said.
That had her frowning again. The minute she had walked into their home she had shed her uniform, her actual military uniform because Carol might have gone the way of lucrative civilian contractor after her time in the Air Force but Valkyrie was still in the Army, and pulled on Carol’s ratty Air Force sweatshirt and her own ratty LSU sweatpants.
Valkyrie looked over the table again.
The completely empty table.
There wasn’t even a single - much less two - place settings.
“What-”
“Strip,” Carol said.
Valkyrie raised her eyebrows.
“Don’t tell me a captain is trying to give me orders?”
It wasn’t a thing, not really , but they had both had to fight through a lot of bullshit to earn their ranks, and while Carol had retired from the Air Force as a captain, Valkyrie was a full bird colonel and damn proud of it.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Carol said, insolent little smirk in place. “Consider it more of a request. Please.”
Valkyrie still hesitated, still a little unsure what Carol was up to, but after a moment she sighed and gave in.
What the hell, it wasn’t likely her day would get worse if she got naked for her wife.
She dropped the clothes into a pile on the floor and saw the way Carol’s lips tightened just a little, just enough that Valkyrie had to fight back a laugh because they both knew that after whatever Carol had planned was done, she would be swooping in to pick up Valkyrie’s discarded clothing and put it away properly.
“Well?” Valkyrie put her hands on her naked hips. “I’m naked, captain.”
Carol licked her lips, hazel eyes dark with desire, and Valkyrie felt her own arousal spark. Carol Danvers was a woman who went after what she wanted - always had, always would. After six years of marriage and a ten-year on-again, off-again relationship before that, Valkyrie still felt very nearly humbled to be someone Carol wanted that badly .
Carol eased her chair away from the dining table just a bit and put her hand on the smooth, polished wooden surface.
The very polished surface.
Carol had been planning this, whatever it was.
“I’m hungry,” Carol said.
“I’m not cooking naked. Not after what happened last time.”
They shared a smile at that, but then Carol’s expression sobered.
“I’m more in the mood for dessert, anyway,” she said.
Valkyrie groaned.
“No, Carol. We are not doing the whip cream and chocolate sauce thing again. Do you know how long it took me to stop smelling chocolate whenever we ate in here?”
Carol rolled her eyes and got up from her chair.
She was just a bit, maybe only an inch or two, taller than Valkyrie, but when she crowded in close like this, smirk on her lips and determination in her eyes, she seemed about ten feet tall.
Valkyrie loved it.
Carol reached for her, pulling Valkyrie close to her and then smoothing her hands down her bare ass and to her thighs.
Carol lifted, and Valkyrie automatically put her arms around Carol’s shoulders.
Being carried around wasn’t a thing that Valkyrie had ever thought she would be into. And it wasn’t like Carol did it often, but she did do it.
And fuck, did Valkyrie love it.
Carol deposited her on the table, wood cold and hard under her ass, and then eased Valkyrie down until she was on her back, legs dangling off.
She heard Carol pull the chair back up, felt her firm hands adjusting her legs until Valkyrie’s heels were on the arms of the chair and she was splayed open, completely exposed.
“Now,” Carol said, smirk in her damn voice, “if it’s okay with you, colonel, I’d like to eat.”
And then Carol pulled Valkyrie’s hips close and licked a hot, wet path between the seams of her labia, and Valkyrie gave a delighted, startled shout of pleasure.
“Okay with you, ma’am?” Carol asked, smug as hell.
“Yeah - yeah, okay with me.”
Valkyrie scrambled to grab the edges of the table and braced herself.
Carol Danvers had never once, not in her entire life, done something half-assed.
And eating Valkyrie out?
She did that with the enthusiasm, finesse and talent of someone who wanted nothing more from life than to eat pussy.
So Valkyrie did the only thing she could do - she held on and let her wife take her apart.
-o-